


Only Human

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Feelings Realization, Illnesses, Romance, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: Sherlock is shocked to discover that Molly Hooper is seriously ill. His automatic response to this news leads to additional and surprising revelations.
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 41
Kudos: 174
Collections: Wifey’s Sherlolly Prompts





	Only Human

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsMCrieff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMCrieff/gifts).



> This is a prompt fill for MrsMcrieff for Molly coming down with a virus and things being touch an go, which causes him to realize his feelings. I opted to make this a period AU and therefore not have The Virus That Shall Not Be Named be the focal point of this fic. I didn’t want it to maybe hit too close to home for some folks out there, or perhaps mess up any accurate info on the current pandemic. Hope you all enjoy this! ;)

“Oh, Mr. Holmes, good morning,” Mrs. Hudson greeted as he came bounding down the steps, her expression noticeably grave. “Dr and Mrs. Watson have just popped down to 221C to look in on dear Molly.”

Sherlock frowned. “Why? What ever is the matter with Miss Hooper?”

Mrs. Hudson shook her head, wringing her little hands. “Heavens knows, but the poor girl is terribly ill. I shall never forgive myself if anything should happen to my poor, late sister’s only child!”

“Come now, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said with a chuckle. “Surely it’s not as serious as all that! I’ll just have a chat with Watson and find out what he thinks.”

He left the concerned woman’s side and let himself into the basement flat, hearing the Watson’s voices as he descended the steps. 

“Holmes, what are you doing down here?” Watson questioned, his tone hushed.

“Mrs Hudson seems to think her niece is  _ gravely _ ill,” Sherlock explained flippantly. “As for myself, I prefer the opinion of an expert.”

John and Mary exchanged a look that instantly shifted the confident detective's mood. 

“She is indeed very ill, Mr. Holmes,” Mary replied first. 

“I- I don’t understand,” Sherlock stuttered. “What does she have?”

John spoke seriously. “I can’t say precisely what it is, but the fever came on rather suddenly last night and now she barely has the strength to stand. I think it quite likely it was something she was exposed to in the program she’s begun at Bart’s.”

Sherlock swallowed thickly, looking back and forth between John and Mary. 

“But she’ll...of course she will...make a full recovery,” he stated softly, begging for some confirmation. 

John paused, looking at Mary again before addressing Sherlock, keeping his voice very low.

“Her fever is high, Holmes, and I do not like the sound of her cough and breathing. She is weakened, barely able to eat or drink. She’s in the thick of it now, which could go on for some days, so I have a difficult time saying for sure what the outcome will be.”

Sherlock let out a humorless laugh. “But it’s- this is  _ Miss Hooper _ . How can you be unsure?”

John nodded, his face far too calm for Sherock’s liking. “Yes. It is Miss Hooper. And she is only human, Holmes. She is flesh and blood, like you and me. And like all of us...she is not invincible.”

He was dumbfounded. Sherlock Holmes, the man who had an answer for everything, could not find the words for this truly unfathomable news. It took him quite a few moments to say the only thing that made any bit of sense.

“I...I need to see her.”

“She needs to rest, Mr. Holmes,” Mary counseled. 

“Yes, of course,” Sherlock replied, nodding. “But I could- I could help...care for her.”

John sighed. “Holmes, you risk your own health even being in this flat and I should think you wouldn’t want to-“

“It is completely ridiculous that Mrs. Hudson should be expected to care for her niece in these circumstances. She is well along in years and a fever like this could certainly be the death of her. And you and Mrs. Watson cannot be expected to be here every day! Who better to take on the responsibility than me?”

“Yes but as a physician, I would still advise precaution because-“

“I am well aware of the potential spread of disease, as well as the best preventative measures to take,” Sherlock insisted more firmly. “And I should think you and your wife would not wish to stay longer than necessary. How much better if you should only need to return every day or two to check in?”

The Watsons glanced at each other again, both seemingly unable to come up with further arguments.

“As you wish, Holmes. But you send for me at any hour, should anything change for the worse!” John instructed sternly.

“You have my word,” Sherlock agreed with a nod as he removed his jacket, rolling up his shirt sleeves. 

The Watsons finally took their leave, and Sherlock's keen ears couldn't help but pick up a brief exchange between them as they climbed the stairs.

“I cannot understand why he is being so insistent,” John whispered.

Mary laughed softly. “Can you not, husband?”

Sherlock brushed that off and made his way into the darkened bedroom, greeted by the sound of a painful cough. 

“Miss Hooper, it’s me, it’s Sherlock Holmes,” he explained gently, taking out his handkerchief and tying it around his face, stepping just a bit closer.

She had become barely visible in the bed, her dark hair against the white pillow being the most noticeable part of her. 

“Mr. Holmes?” Molly questioned weakly. “What- why are you here?”

“Shh, no need to talk. I’ll be here in case you need anything.”

“No no, I’ll be fine, really I...” she muttered.

“Arguing is an unacceptable use of strength, Miss Hooper,” he instructed, gentle but firm. “Use that only for recovery.”

She let out a heavy sigh, shutting her eyes again and apparently deciding not to argue further.

Sherlock spent the majority of the day in 221C, only leaving when Molly was sleeping soundly. Twice in the night he made his way downstairs, bringing her water and making her drink a little, and laying a freshly cool flannel on her forehead. He had to admit relief when Watson returned the next morning.

“Well?” Sherlock prompted as John checked her over thoroughly. 

John gave him a tight smile. “She is unchanged.”

Sherlock’s shoulders dropped in defeat. 

“It’s not even been two days, Holmes,” John reminded him. “You’re doing a fine job, but she’s not out of the woods yet. You’re watching over her, but you cannot cure her. That is for her body to do.”

Sherlock knew he was right, but that was what left him feeling completely undone. He wanted to do absolutely everything, and the idea that he was ultimately not in control of the outcome was infuriating. 

The next two days were much the same. Sherlock kept an almost constant vigil, day and night. It was painful, seeing Molly so broken, seeing her body at the mercy of an invisible enemy that he couldn’t defeat. He’d have taken it from her if he could, brought the suffering onto his own body if it would mean some relief for her.

On the fourth night though, things seemed even worse. Molly’s fever always climbed a bit at night, but this time she was truly burning up. She seemed to become delirious, sleeping fitfully and waking only to let out a pitiful moan of discomfort. She said his name occasionally, reminding him that a part of her knew he was there. 

Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to go upstairs that night, instead sitting in the chair by her bed and only occasionally dozing for a few moments. He scooted the chair a little closer at one point in the night, worrying at how she looked and wanting to keep a closer eye.

“Watson reminded me that you are flesh and blood. He told me you are not invincible,” he said aloud, though she hardly seemed to notice.

Sherlock glanced at her little hand laying on the bed, suddenly desperate to take it, hold it within his own, but he knew he had to minimize contact.

“That was when I realized,” he continued in a whisper. “That is not how I think of you. I see you as...something more than human. Something stronger and better. And I find I cannot reconcile that picture of you in my mind...with this picture of you before my eyes.”

Sherlock paused, aghast at the way his voice broke.

“I find that there are things, other things, I need to- need to say…” he started again, not even sure where he was going. “Things I never thought I’d want to speak, not to anyone.” 

Molly groaned softly, squirming in discomfort. He got up and carefully readjusted the cool cloth on her brow.

“I beg you, Molly,” Sherlock whispered. “I beg you to come back so that I can say them. Forgive me for being so blind and foolish, seeing but not observing for all this time, just as I’ve so often accused others of doing. If you fight through this, I swear I’ll never be so blind again.”

She gave no response of course, and Sherlock could only sit back down and hang his head, feeling more powerless and defeated than ever. 

* * *

Sherlock woke with a start, hearing noise in the room and looking over to see John examining Molly. John raised a finger, quieting Sherlock as he stood since Molly was still sleeping, then the doctor rounded the bed to his friend.

It seemed like an eternity, but finally, a smile spread on John’s face. “Her fever has come down significantly.”

Sherlock could have fallen over with relief, placing a hand on John’s shoulder both in thanks and need for support.

“Now you need to go upstairs, and get some rest. Consider it Doctor’s orders,” John instructed. “I promise she is out of danger.”

Sherlock listened to this kind advice, mostly because he didn’t have the energy left to argue. And he also knew that with the knowledge of Molly being over the worst of it, he might actually be able to get some sleep. 

* * *

Sherlock was surprised two days later by a knock at his door, looking up from the fire to see Molly Hooper standing there, clad only in a nightdress and dressing gown.

“Miss Hooper,” he started, looking a little alarmed. “What are you doing upstairs?”

“I’m perfectly well,” she quickly explained. “I just...well, I feel my old self again, so although Dr Watson has urged me to stay in bed another day, it’s beginning to drive me mad.”

Sherlock smiled. “His instructions often tend to do so.”

This coaxed a little laugh from her, one which he would have given all his worldly belongings to hear a few days before.

“Also,” Molly added, stepping over the threshold. “I very much wanted to thank you.”

Sherlock laid down his pipe, taking a seat in his chair and gesturing to the other across from him. 

“It was far from strenuous. Watson and Mary were there twice, helping with more...personal things. I was mostly tasked with placing a cool cloth on your forehead and administering regular water, so I fear my duties deserve little praise.”

Molly smiled, taking a seat. “Even so, it means quite a bit. Yesterday Mary told me you...insisted. Even at risk of exposure.”

“And I am not sorry for taking that risk,” he replied instantly, noticing the way her chest had begun to rise and fall more rapidly.

Sherlock paused, lips pressed together as he scooted forward a bit in his chair.

“And while you were ill, how much do you...remember?”

“Very little. I do remember seeing you sometimes, hearing your voice, but it was more like pieces of a dream.”

He nodded, both relieved and a little disappointed. He supposed it was time for him to make good on his promise, even if he was the only one to hear it. After all, she had upheld her end of the bargain. 

“Tell me, has Watson said whether you are currently contagious? I should imagine not.”

“You’re correct,” Molly confirmed with a smile. “Now that my fever has broken and I’m feeling well again, it’s an unlikely risk.”

Sherlock barely hesitated a full breath, reaching across the space between their chairs and taking one of her hands into his. He heard a little gasp escape her lips as he shut his eyes and cradled it against his cheek, eventually shifting it over to his lips to press a lingering kiss to her palm.

When he finally looked back at her, all he could see was blazing heat in her eyes, and he knew it went far deeper than the reflecting fire.

“Mr. Holmes,” she all but breathed out.

“Forgive me. Forgive me for having had to see you in such a dire state to be struck with the realization that I...I cannot bear to be without you. Not for any reason. Not anymore. Please say I don’t have to be.”

Molly gave him a watery smile. “Would you stand please, Mr. Holmes?”

Frowning in a little confusion, he got to his feat along with her. He was very pleasantly surprised when she stepped toe to toe with him, wrapped her little arms around his neck, and lifted to her toes to press her lips to his. His surprise quickly shifted to absolute ecstasy, sinking into their kiss and holding her tightly to him.

“No, you don’t have to be without me,” Molly finally whispered, separating their lips just enough to say so and give him a playful smile. “In case my answer wasn’t already clear enough.”

It was quite wonderfully clear, he decided, leaning down to capture her lips once more. As he enjoyed the newfound bliss of kissing the woman of his dreams, Sherlock decided he’d learned quite a lesson in the realities of life that week. 

He’d now seen the indisputable proof firsthand that the human form was susceptible to a great many things. Perhaps they could be called weak, able to be brought to their knees even by something invisible to the naked eye. This reality could at times be devastating. But then, at other times…

Being human was the best feeling in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I’d love to hear your thoughts! And please everyone stay safe and STAY HOME whenever possible. If it hasn’t hit where you live yet, try to keep it that way for as long as possible by being extra cautious and listening to social distancing guidelines. Sorry not sorry for jumping on the soapbox for a sec lol!


End file.
